


lady justice

by orphan_account



Series: qui pro domina justitia sequitur [7]
Category: Political RPF, Political RPF - US 21st c., Real Person Fiction
Genre: 2k17 coping mechanisms, Circumstances Beyond Your Control, Difficult Decisions, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Introspection, M/M, i know this series is supposed to be complete but hear me out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 14:31:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11210004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He feels a little guilty, of course he does, but it’s not as though he has a choice. There’s work to be done.





	lady justice

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read [this wild, wild WaPo article that broke yesterday](https://www.washingtonpost.com/world/national-security/special-counsel-is-investigating-trump-for-possible-obstruction-of-justice/2017/06/14/9ce02506-5131-11e7-b064-828ba60fbb98_story.html?) then do so now.

Aaron comes inside his office a couple of minutes after the _Washington Post_ story breaks. Bob is waiting for him, two glasses set on his desk with a tumbler in between. He gestures him forward and starts pouring out a drink.

“I thought you would’ve left for home by now,” Aaron says. He pulls back the chair and sits down, posture straight and impeccable.

Bob pushes a glass toward him. “I was going to,” he admits, “but then, well…” He picks up his phone and shrugs. “The day just never seems to end.”

“You can say that again.” Aaron shakes his head and takes a long drink, lips smacking together slightly as he lets out a sigh and looks back to Bob. “You don’t think anyone here leaked, do you?”

“No, of course not,” Bob says. His fingers tap casually against the side of his glass, still empty, and the noise echoes through the room. “I wouldn’t have picked any of you if I thought you couldn’t be trusted – and I trust all of you.”

Aaron nods slowly. He clears his throat a little. “Well, there’s no point in lingering on it if it’s not in this office, then. We should just stick with what we’re doing and ignore the outside.”

“And if we ever forget, we can just turn to the pages of the _Post_ or the _Journal_ and get right back on track.” They laugh a little and Bob gives a disbelieving smile. “It’s so strange to read about people speculating about the status of my job, rather than the status of what the investigation is. Especially when I myself have no idea as to the latter.”

“I remember when you told me about that meeting you had with the President,” Aaron says. He scratches the side of his jaw and considers for a moment. “Was he really going to offer you the job?”

Bob shrugs. “Well, I’d done it once before, so…”

“Good point,” Aaron hums, chuckling slightly before letting it trail off. He takes another sip, slowly bringing the glass to his lips and settling it down on the palm of his hand. He bites his lip a second before saying, “Since we’re on the subject of the FBI, how is Mr. Comey doing?”

“He’s… he’s holding up,” Bob says with a sigh. His expression is plain but his tone conveys the deep sense of sympathy he feels for the man. Sympathy, and, well…

“Conservative media keeps bringing up your relationship with him,” Aaron points out. “Sean Hannity, Newt Gingrich…”

Bob lets out a scoff. “Don’t tell me that’s where you’re getting your news from,” he says, clearly sarcastic.

Aaron rolls his eyes. “You know I’m not,” he says. “But the point remains, they’re using him to attack you, and they’re using us and our, well, partisan past to attack you as well.”

“No one here has a partisan past,” Bob says. His hands twitch, almost reaching for the tumbler, but he stops himself and instead drums against the desk. “Everyone knows that the people in here are filled with integrity and honestly, and we will find the truth, regardless of who it benefits.”

“I know,” Aaron says, but there’s still a certain uneasiness to his look. “But… wouldn’t it be easier if you, I don’t know…” It’s clear what he wants to say but he doesn’t say it, choosing to instead set his gaze on the desk and look awkward.

Bob sighs, and leans over to put a hand on Aaron’s shoulder. He waits for him to look up and says, in a calm and assuring voice, “We’re going to get to the truth together, Aaron, no matter what anyone else thinks.”

Aaron nods. His lips are slightly parted and he looks as though he wants to say something else but then – then Bob’s phone buzzes and he lets go of him to check it. It’s nothing more than an alert about the shooting earlier that day, but Bob does notice the time and he knows it’s getting late.

“We should probably start head out now, before traffic gets too bad.” He stands up and pulls on his coat, reaching down to grab his briefcase, before walking across and patting Aaron on the back. “Take heart, Aaron. We’ll be fine.”

Aaron clears his throat and nods, looking a little more settled and a little more unsettled at the same time. “I know,” he says. “Have a good night.”

“You as well,” Bob says, and he heads out the door.

He’s just about to start his car when the phone rings. It’s no shock to him when he sees that it’s Jim and he picks up immediately. “I was wondering when I’d get your call.”

“You know I have nothing better to do,” Jim replies, and Bob does smile a little.

He leans his head back, a hand on the steering wheel, and asks, “What is it this time?”

“It’s nothing about me.” There’s something in the way Jim says it that heavily implies it does have a little to do with him, but Bob doesn’t press it. “I, uh, wanted to know how you were doing.”

“How _I’m_ doing?” Bob raises a brow.

“The right keeps attacking your integrity and that of your team’s,” Jim says. “And, well, the President keeps being vague as to whether or not he will fire you. And then there’s that leak that came out today and that probably doesn’t make things any better.” He pauses, letting the words settle in. “How are you, Bob?”

For a second, Bob doesn’t say anything, because he’s just that kind of man. He doesn’t open up, he just deals with it and moves on. He’s good at helping himself and he doesn’t need anyone to help when it comes to personal matters like the frustration he’s feeling with all of these news reports and leaks and everyone dragging this probe into the spotlight – they can only get their job done if people let them work – but…

But Bob was right in what he thought earlier – this conversation isn’t really about him, it’s about Jim. Jim is the one nervous for Bob’s sake, the one who’s worried that their relationship will lead to negative consequences for the one of them who still has a job, the one who needs Bob more than Bob needs him.

And so Bob cuts through the thinly veiled façade and says, “Do you want me to come over, Jim?”

There’s a beat of silence. “Yes,” he finally says.

“Okay,” Bob says. “Then I’ll be right over.” He hangs up and texts Ann before starting the car and driving off.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I can’t stay for long,” he says when he steps in through the back door. Jim helps him through, dressed casually in his usual pajamas, and they make their way to the living room. “I’ve got an early morning at the office.”

“The wheels are starting to turn, are they?” Jim asks. He means it in a casual way but it’s clear he’s all too invested in this, trying to figure out what’s going on, trying to see where it leads.

“They are,” Bob sighs. He sits down and shakes his head.

“I read the articles,” Jim admits. “I know it’s leaked, but, well, you know…” He trails off a little with a slight chuckle. “The _Journal_ says you’re planning to meet with Coats, Rogers, and Ledgett this week.”

“You know I can’t talk about it.”

“I know.” He clears his throat. “But… how is it going, though?”

Bob thinks about it for a moment, wondering how much he should say. “It’s, well, exhausting, admittedly, how things are progressing so far,” he says. “But the team is working well and I think we’re going to be making headway sooner than later. Especially once people let us do our work.”

There’s some bourbon on the table and Bob pours himself a glass, bringing it to his lips, but setting it down before he takes a sip. It lands with a dull thud. “Patrice is out visiting the kids?” he asks.

Jim nods. He takes a seat across from him, legs spread and hands crossed in his lap, fidgeting anxiously. “I thought I was going to be okay alone, but…” he trails off and looks away, a slow flush creeping up his face.

Bob holds back a sigh. He leans over and cups Jim’s cheek, gently, brushing his thumb over the corner of his mouth and softening his expression when Jim looks back at him. “Hey,” he says, softly, “it’s okay.”

Jim doesn’t quite meet his eyes, his embarrassment clear and apparent. He licks his lips and sighs. “I’m sorry I called.”

“It’s fine,” Bob says. “I’m glad you did.” He’s sitting on the edge of his seat now and he leans a little more forward until their lips touch and they’re kissing. It’s slow and gentle, Bob’s fingers brushing back Jim’s hair from his forehead, and he can feel Jim’s sigh against his skin.

Bob reaches down to start and pull off Jim’s pants, but Jim swats his hand away. He gets up off the couch and kneels down between Bob’s legs and spreads them apart, undoing his belt and pulling down his underwear and Bob knows what happens next.

He sets a hand on Jim’s head, carding through his hair, and he leans back as Jim takes his dick in his mouth. It’s clear that he’s out of practice, his tongue moving awkwardly and his hands shake slightly, so Bob gently stokes his head.

“It’s okay, Jim,” he says quietly. “You’re doing so well.” He lets out a long and slow sigh when Jim starts to suck properly and he rubs around carefully. His eyes flicker up, wide and earnest, and Bob looks at him with all the affection in the world.

His head tips back and his grip on Jim’s head tightens when he spills into his mouth a few moments later – he’s not as young as he used to be, he can’t last that long anymore – and he breathes deeply for a moment.

Jim moves back and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, a trail of come on the side. His eyes are slightly glossy and he looks a little dazed and Bob pulls him up, straddling his legs around his hips.

“Bob,” Jim says, the objection on the tip of his tongue, but Bob gently shushes him.

“It’s okay, Jim,” he says gently. “I can do this for you.” His hand moves under his pants and he finds his dick, sliding a finger down the shaft before slowly starting to stroke.

Jim’s eyes close as he presses his forehead against Bob’s, breathing heavily in his ear. He lets out the lightest of moans when Bob teases the head of his cock and he bites down on his lip. “Oh God,” he says. “Oh, God, Bob, please...”

“I know.” Bob keeps his voice low and he holds the back of Jim’s head. Their foreheads are still touching and he can feel every single breath and pant he takes. “It’s okay.”

“Bob, _please_ ,” Jim’s groan breaks off into part of a sob, mouth parted and a tear falling down the side of his cheek. He’s close, so close. “Please, Bob, I need… I need…”

“I know,” Bob says again, whispering softly, “I know. I’m here, I’ve got you.”

Jim comes without warning, silently into the crook of Bob’s neck and his hands tighten on his arms as he rides through the aftershocks. His breathing is steady but he doesn’t move, not just yet. Bob settles his hand on his back and it’s a little like they’re hugging.

It’s a funny thought, and the corners of his mouth lift when, all of a sudden, he feels a vibration in his pocket. His phone. He knows it would be rather rude to check, but Jim is still out of it and it could be a text from Ann.

He moves slowly, careful not to disturb Jim, and unlocks his phone with his thumb. It’s not from Ann, but from Aaron – a screenshot of an article from one of those publications that Bob doesn’t really bother with, not when he has his classics, but he reads it anyway.

_Asked what the internal game plan should be, one senior Trump administration official replied, “Keep him away from Twitter, dear God, keep him away from Twitter.”_

_Dear God_. Bob’s just about to laugh when he remembers where he is, who he’s with, what he’s doing, and he puts his phone back. He clears his throat. “Jim?”

“Yes?” Jim replies after a moment. He sounds soft, sated, much more relaxed than he did earlier and a little bit of relief settles into Bob’s chest.

He smiles a little and kisses the side of his head, as Jim presses his head a little closer. “We should get up,” he says. “Have you eaten yet?”

“You know I haven’t,” Jim mumbles.

“You should.” Bob wipes his hand on the inside of Jim’s trousers and carefully helps him to his feet. “Come on. Let’s eat.”

Jim’s knees are bent, still a little weak, and he looks at Jim with soft, concerning eyes. “Bob,” he says, “I’m sorry I… I’m sorry, that I keep doing this. I keep calling you, I can’t even help you, not the way I usually could. It’s just, ever since the Clinton probe, it feels like everything I touch seems to get worse and now… Now I’m ruining your investigation, and…”

Bob sighs. He takes Jim’s face in his hands and says, slowly, “It’s going to be harder and harder for me to come here and take care of you. But,” he adds, “that doesn’t mean you have to cut yourself off from me. You trust me, I trust you – we’re friends. We don’t have to end our friendship.”

The relief in Jim’s eyes is immediately evident and he nods slowly, relaxing further and standing up straight. “Okay,” he says, nodding slowly. He looks down at himself and presses his lips together. “I, uh, should probably go clean up.”

“You should,” Bob chuckles. “I’ll be here, don’t worry.” He watches Jim walk away when his phone buzzes again. Another article from Aaron. He rolls back and sends him a text.

_Shouldn’t you be doing work?_

The reply comes almost immediately. _I’m allowed to have hobbies._

Bob looks up from his phone for a moment and catches Jim heading into the kitchen, likely searching for whatever leftovers he has in the fridge. He doesn’t cook unless Patrice is there, not usually, but he might cook now, for him.

 _We all are,_ he sends back. He’s just about to pocket his phone again when another message appears.

_Mind if I come by for dinner? I could bring some files over and we could prep for the meetings later this week._

“Bob?” Jim’s back in the room, raising a brow at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he says. He pockets his phone and dusts off his jacket. “Just got an update from Aaron. I, uh, guess I can’t stay for dinner.”

“Oh,” Jim says. His face is blank but Bob knows what he’s feeling. He clears his throat. “Um, well… Good luck, Bob.”

“I don’t need luck,” Bob says, “not when I have justice.” He gives Jim’s arm a squeeze and kisses his cheek, briefly and quickly, before heading out the door with a hurried goodbye.

He feels a little guilty, of course he does, for having to leave Jim behind, especially when he’s like this, but it’s not as though he has a choice. There’s work to be done. He pulls out his phone and texts Aaron back right before he leaves.

_Let’s get to work, then._

**Author's Note:**

> The article Aaron sends is [here](http://www.thedailybeast.com/even-trumps-aides-blame-him-for-obstruction-probe-president-did-this-to-himself), and you can find out more about him and his relationship with Mueller [here](https://www.wired.com/story/robert-mueller-special-counsel-investigation-team/). (Highly recommend both).
> 
>  
> 
> ~~Also... Aaron is kinda cute???~~  
>  ~~Why do I keep implying unrequited love between deputies and their superiors???~~


End file.
